The essay considers synthetically the passages of Hesiod’s Theogony concerning Khaos, Gaia, Uranòs, and Tàrtaros as describing the cosmic structure at its very beginning and at its present state. The final result of the cosmogenetic process consists of three solid parallel disks of equal size separated from one another by the space of Khaos/Aèr. The whole structure is conceived of as an ideal cylinder, whose superior base is Uranòs, the inferior one is Tàrtaros and the median section is Gaia, dividing (...) the whole cylinder into two high semicylinders full of Khaos/Aèr. From this Khaos/Aèr, the primal Four Elements derive, as plants do from their roots, from which all other substances of the universe originate in turn. Thus, Khaos is arkhè not only in the chronological-historical sense, but also in the sense of an eternal generative substance of all things. We may conclude that the Hesiodic word khaos is a lexical ancestor of the later physical and philosophical term hyle because it conveys the primeval notion of ‘matter’. (shrink)

For a long time, Parmenides has been considered the first real metaphysician in history, a theorist of a disembodied being, unreachable by the scientific knowledge of the world. In his Eleatic Lectures, Giovanni Cerri goes back to his renown interpretation of Parmenides as a scientist fully aware of the epistemological foundations of knowledge, and capable of foreshadowing the ultimate outcome of the evolution of science, that is, the discovery of being as a single homogeneous body. Cerri also shows that the (...) works of two other thinkers who were trained in the heart of the school of Elea itself support his interpretation: on the one hand Zeno, with his arguments against plurality; on the other hand Leucippus, the inventor of atomism. Ten scholars have been called to discuss this broad interpretation of a crucial page in the history of thought. Cerri replies to each of them in the final pages of the volume, engaging in a dense dialogue. (shrink)

From immemorial time, many Tyrrhenian places of ancient Sicily and Italy were identified with the main stages of the return of Ulysses. Some Hellenistic critics assumed that it was from the various ancient and pre-Homeric myths that Homer drew inspiration, in the same way that he did with the myth of the Trojan War, which certainly occurred before him. Thus, the voyage of Ulysses, after his losing the course because of the storm at Cape Malea, had to be located in (...) those sites. But how can one explain the fact that Homer places the voyage from Circe to the Hades over the Ocean? Is it only a pseudogeographic poetic touch, aimed to magnify the exploit? Crates of Mallus did not think so: in his opinion, only some of the numerous adventures had taken place in the Tyrrhenian Sea, whereas Homer had purposefully placed some other exactly on the Atlantic Ocean, beyond the Pillars of Hercules. Whichever of the two models one chooses, the route of Ulysses seems to be completely unlikely, both from the point of view of objective reality and from the point of view of poetic imagination. It appears to be a senseless coming and going that takes the shape of some sort of a labyrinth. Furthermore, the navigation times suggested by the text do not accord at all with the distances among the real sites. For this reason, Eratosthenes held that, from Cape Malea onwards, Ulysses switched from the real world to that of fantasy, or better still to the world of some narrative fable that does not heed geography at all. The modern critics are inclined to agree with him and this thesis is nowadays the most popular one. Yet, a very serious objection can be raised here: the myth and the epos, are strictly linked to the geography and the topography as well – they are radically refractory to a narrative fable that totally contradicts the then realities of time and space. Why should Ulysses plunge from Cape Malea onwards straight into the Neverland kingdom? If we combine Odyssey’s data with those we can reconstruct for the earliest form of the Argonautic saga, then we get the solution that neither the ancient nor the modern critics have guessed correctly: up to around the middle of the 8th century B.C., the Greeks thought the Ocean to flow just after the Sicily Channel, essentially coinciding with the so-called Tyrrhenian Sea, still completely unknown at that time. This new perspective can well justify the objective disorder of Ulysses’ route. Above all, it also bears a deeper poetic sense: the Hero had the chance to know and to experience not only some far and exotic countries in general terms, but he also met the very boundaries of the surfacing lands and the rushing waters which encircle the terrestrial disc, bordering the external cosmic abyss. Ulysses came back home alive. He was able to tell the stories about the lands where no human being could ever sail. This borderline that geographically is clearly located marks at the same time the insurmountable chasm between the physical and the meta-physical world. (shrink)